


La Vie en Rouge

by ItsNotYouItsMimi



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Angst, Bonding over death, F/F, F/M, Miracles, Multi, alyadrien, alyadrienbug, cw death, tw death, well it IS MIRACUlous ladybug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 06:46:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10611453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ItsNotYouItsMimi/pseuds/ItsNotYouItsMimi
Summary: After Ladybug's death, there is only one person who can comfort Chat Noir.





	

**Author's Note:**

> *********PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE PROCEEDING**************
> 
> DO NOT READ THIS WORK IF YOU ARE UNCOMFORTABLE WITH CHARACTER DEATH. Don't do it. Character death is the thing that sets this entire plot going, so if you can't handle it then please don't read it. I don't want anyone to be uncomfortable or triggered!
> 
> Also, warning for strong language and mild gore. That's it, though! Please enjoy!

Chat had seen Ladybug in white on her wedding day, Ladybug in blue and pink for what she claimed was Bisexual Day, and a million different shades of red depending on the day, the lighting, the time. Even her mood seemed being a new red hue to his eyes. He'd thought he'd seen every possible shade of red that existed.    
  
This one, though, is jarringly unfamiliar. Some shades of red aren't meant to be seen, he's realized.    
  
The red that was slowly dripping from her forehead.    
  
It felt wrong.   
  
She gave a feeble cough, lying meekly on the ground as she was, and rasped faintly, "Chat..."   
  
He couldn't move, could only keep staring at this red that terrified him.    
  
"I want you to know... I had a good life with you. I wouldn't... I wouldn't have had it any other way."   
  
"You're making me cry, Bugaboo," he whispered.   
  
"Don't you want to hear my sentimental last words?"   
  
"No! I don't want to ever hear your last words!"   
  
"Suck it up, the ambulance won't come in time, I only have like thirty seconds. As I was saying, I'm glad I took the path I did..." Her arm twitched, perhaps trying to reach him and caress him. "I didn't know this was how my life was going to play out. I thought it'd be so different... and I'm so glad this is how is turned out to be. I couldn't be happier at your side, Chat." She frowned. "Can you still feel my pulse?"   
  
Chat put two fingers to her neck. "Barely."   
  
"Okay, then listen up, 'cause this is important. I love you and you mean the world to me. I'm sorry I couldn't be with you longer."   
  
"Bugaboo, NO."   
  
"I love you," she repeated, and her chest went still.   
  
Chat couldn't seem to remove his hand from her neck, which no longer had a pulse. He could only stare at what used to be Ladybug, but was now a horrifyingly surreal red color.

  
  
—«·»—

  
  
  
Days passed. Maybe even weeks. He wasn't sure. He spent all his time in her room, with the blinds drawn, cuddling himself in her blankets and trying to hold on to her familiar cookie-lavender scent.    
  
When he finally decided to leave his bed, it was because he'd gotten a text from Rena Rouge, his favorite memeloving redhead who acted like his big sister.   
  


  
**Foxy:** yooo minou i haven't heard from you in a few days wuss poppin b   
  
**ChatNoir:** my wife died  
  
**Foxy:** i know i'm trying to cheer you up  
  
**Foxy:** do you want me to come over?  
****  
**ChatNoir:** i kind of want to be alone  
  
**Foxy:** chat it's been a week  
  
**Foxy:** and i'm guessing you haven't eaten  
****  
**Foxy:** i have soup can you unlock the door  
  
**Foxy:** chat pls  
**  
****Foxy:** i'm worried about you

**Foxy:** im not gonna shut up you might as well just let me in

  
  


Chat sighed and tossed off his blankets, walking downstairs slowly. Familiar orange ears stuck up from the window in the door.

 

He unlocked the door and was greeted with a bone-crushing hug. The sensation was very unpleasant, but his discomfort was overruled by his relief at seeing his friend.

 

“Let me get the soup,” Rena said, and picked up an enormous pot of chicken noodle soup that was resting by her foot. “And you have to eat it all or I’m calling the police.”

 

“What are they gonna do, arrest a superhero?” Chat said, with a half-smile that took more effort than it should’ve.

 

“I mean, it’s not like you’re above the law. Remember when you were like, fourteen, and that one guy Theo dressed up as you and tried to steal the Mona Lisa? The police were all over you.”

 

“I kind of am the law, Rena.”

 

“No…?” She walked into the kitchen and started rooting around the dusty cabinets for a bowl. “You just protect people.”

 

“That’s what government is for. Didn’t you ever learn about the French Revolution in lycée?”

 

“Well, duh, but-” She set two bowls on the table and began ladling soup into them. “I mean— it’s not like you protect their rights and whatever.”

 

“Yes, I do. I protect their rights to-” he imitated a snotty 18th-century Frenchperson- “ life, liberty, and safety.”

 

“Whatever, M. Pretentious.” She peered into his face. “No offense, but you look really horrible. I mean, you look okay for an average person, but for a hot person, which you are, you look awful.”

 

“Thanks…?”

 

“Eat.” Rena pushed the bowl of soup towards him. “Maybe you’ll look less horrible.”

 

“I don’t mean to be rude, but looks are pretty much the last thing I care about right now.” Chat stirred his soup around.

 

“Don’t play with your food. You’re going to insult me. Will you please eat it? I put a lot of effort into that.”   
  


“How are you so… composed?” Chat asked, still fiddling with his spoon. “I thought she was your best friend.”

 

Rena went quiet for a while. When Chat looked up, tears were brimming at her eyes.

 

“She was… more than a best friend,” she whispered, blinking rapidly. “I knew her for ten years, I saw her nearly every day… when you- when you get so close, it’s so hard to be torn apart…

 

“We were dating, you know,” she continued, wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her suit. “For…  _ months… _ when we broke up, we were still best friends, but she was dating you instead.”

 

“You dated Ladybug?” Chat said numbly.

 

“Eight years ago. We were sixteen. It was so long ago. It doesn’t matter now… I shouldn’t have mentioned it. I just…” Rena’s shoulders shook, and tears dripped down her face and into her soup. “She was one of the best parts of my life. I can’t… I can’t even begin to describe how much she meant to me.”

 

Chat was silent. “I can’t believe you understand how I feel so well.”

 

“I mean, she was  _ your  _ wife… not like I can complain as much as you can.” She studied him through a fallen lock of red-white hair. “But you’ve always been kind of silent about your pain, haven’t you?”

 

Silence.

 

“Can I be frank with you?”

 

“How can you be Frank if you’re Chat?”

 

“That’s not funny, Rena Rouge.”

 

“You’re right, it’s not,” she sighed. “Sure, please tell me what’s on your mind.”

 

“I still think she’s here. I still keep waiting for her to come crashing through that window we’ve repaired eleven times and take me away to a bakery or something. I can’t imagine a world without her, it just feels… wrong.”

 

“Isn’t it strange?” Rena agreed. “But I’ve lived over half my life without her in it. It’s so weird to think about.”

 

A long pause filled the hauntingly empty room.

 

“Do you think she’s still out there somewhere?”

 

“No, she’s definitely… you know. They took her body in for an autopsy the other day. I kept meaning to text you but I figured you’d rather grieve by yourself.”

 

“You were right.”

 

She waited a few more seconds before gently nudging the soup towards him and saying gently, “Please eat, you need energy.”

 

“That’s where you’re wrong,” he said tiredly, but took a sip of the soup anyways to pacify her.

 

“Anything else you want to talk about?”

 

“Rena, do you have any regrets?”

 

“I wish I’d seen her before she was gone,” she said immediately. “I should’ve been by her side.”

 

“You shouldn’t’ve,” Chat said bitterly. “It was torture. You’re lucky you weren’t there.”

 

“I don’t care how horrible it was. I miss her.” Rena Rouge loudly slurped her soup. “What about you?”

 

“I wish I’d known who she was.”

 

Rena’s spoon clattered to the table. “ _ What? _ ”

 

“I wish I’d known who she was! What, is that so weird?”

 

“Of course not, it’s just—  _ how could you have married her and not known who she was? _ ” Rena demanded.

 

“What, did  _ you _ know?” Chat retorted.

 

“Yes, of course!”

 

“ _ What? _ ” Chat stood up and slammed his hands on the table, splashing the soup. 

 

“Wow, fake fan,” she muttered.

 

“We agreed  _ not to tell each other! _ ”

 

“So… you lived with her for four years not even knowing her name.”

 

“It was for the best!” Chat collapsed back in his chair. “Okay, okay. Would you tell me her name, please?”

 

“I thought you agreed-”

 

“She’s  _ dead _ , Rena.”

 

“Okay, okay, her name’s Marinette.”

 

Chat blinked.

 

“Marinette? That can’t be right.”

 

“I assure you. I sat right next to her in class all throughout collège and lycée. I’m pretty sure I know her name.”

 

“But… wait, what was her last name?”

 

“Dupain-Cheng. Cute, isn’t it? And you know what else, she used to have this huge crush on this one guy… She got over it when we dated, but she was always kind of pining after him…”

 

Chat’s throat was dry. “Which… guy?”

 

“Some kid named Adrien. After lycée he went off the charts, though. Anyways, that’s all in the past. Why did she never tell you?”

 

“I… don’t know.”

 

“Well, now you do. Please eat the rest of that soup, minou, or I’ll break down your door and force-feed you.” She stood up and tousled his hair, even though it was already pretty disorderly.

 

Chat was still frozen in his chair, but he nodded blankly. “Okay.”

“Take care of yourself!”

 

“Sure.”

 

“Chat…”

 

“I got it.”

 

“Whatever. But I’m coming back tomorrow.”

 

She made her way to the door, but was stopped when Chat faintly said, “...Rena?”

 

“M-hm?”

 

“Is your name perchance… Alya?”

 

Her eyes went wide. “Nah,” she said quickly, and slammed the door shut.

 

Chat spent half an hour trying to finish his soup and then returned to Ladybug’s bed, trying to drown himself in her scent.

  
  


—«·»—

  
  


Rena Rouge didn’t appear the next day as she’d promised. Or the day after that, or the day after  _ that. _

 

Chat was beginning to worry.

  
  


**ChatNoir:** wuss poppin b

**Foxy:** you’re adrien aren’t you

**ChatNoir:** what

**Foxy:** you’re adrien

**ChatNoir:** whom

**Foxy:** nice try

**ChatNoir:** whomsdst’ve is adrien

**Foxy:** fuk u adrien

**ChatNoir:** ok but what if i wasnt adrien and you were saying fuk u to someone else

**Foxy:** SO YOU ARE ADRIEN

**ChatNoir:** well you’re alya

**Foxy:** SHUT YOUR FUCK

**ChatNoir:** will you please come over im so lonely

**Foxy:** how long has it been since you detransformed

**ChatNoir:** idk a couple of weeks

**Foxy:** im coming over but you better be detransformed

  
  


Adrien’s immediate response upon opening the door was “So what happened to Nino?”

 

“He went to Italy. He’s coming back, though.” Alya put her coat on the rack. “In like two months, I think. Anyways,  _ you fucking bitch _ -”

 

“Alya, please.”

 

“I  _ actually hate you _ -”

 

“Alya!”

 

“She had a crush on you for years and you— AAUGH!”

 

“But I ended up marrying her anyways!”

 

“But she didn’t know it was YOU!” Alya moaned. “Oh, my God, I wish she were here to see this, you’re actually the worst.” She kissed his cheek. “I’m making hot chocolate now.”

 

“No, I don’t mind at all,” Adrien muttered.

 

“Shut up.”

 

While Alya got out pots and pans and chocolate, Adrien watched his reflection in the window. He barely recognized himself; he looked like a shell of a person. Hollow and without purpose. Intense bags lay under his eyes, which was weird considering how much he’d slept. His hair looked worse than Donald Trump’s toupée. His skin was waxy and pale.

 

“So, how have you been, you little shit?” Alya’s voice came from the kitchen.

 

“I’m okay,” he said tonelessly.

 

“That’s a lie and you know it. If I haven't been okay, you haven’t either.”

 

“Yeah, okay, I’m doing pretty badly.”

 

“We should go out. Like, I mean, go outside and have a picnic. You need to get some fresh air. I’m making sandwiches.”

 

“Okay, whatever you say.”

 

“Do you have mozzarella?”

 

“We have Camembert.”

 

“Gross. Aww, heck yeah, arugula! And bananas! 

 

“Not in the same sandwich, I hope.”

 

Alya gave Adrien a weird look. “Who do you think I  _ am? _ ”

 

As she was cutting up an avocado, Adrien decided to get up and help her by washing the arugula.

 

“This is gonna be a bomb-ass sandwich. And let’s bring the soup! Heat up a couple portions for me please, minou?”

 

Adrien put the arugula in a bowl and got one of the pots Alya had taken out. 

 

“So have you taken a shower yet?”

 

“No.”

 

“Adrien, that’s  _ disgusting _ .”

 

“Have  _ you _ ?”

 

Alya scowled. “Well played, Adrien. Well played.”

 

“I mean, hygiene's kind of the last thing on your mind after your favorite person in the world’s gone, right?”

 

“I feel you,” she agreed. “Help me pack this up please, chaton.”

 

The word  _ chaton  _ sent a horrible shiver down his spine and he flinched, dropping the now-hot pot of chicken noodle soup and spilling it all over his jeans.

 

“Ow,” he muttered, looking down at the pot with contempt.

 

“Adrien!”

 

“I’m sorry!”

 

“Why would you do that?”

 

“I didn’t mean to!”

 

“Was it that I said  _ chaton _ ?”

 

A dazzling image of Ladybug flashed in front of Adrien’s eyes, and he stumbled backwards, clutching the kitchen counter behind him. “Ah… yes. I think it was. Please don’t call me that.”

 

Alya asked no questions and pressed no further, saying only, “Well, why don’t you go shower and I’ll clean that up.”

  
  
  
  


As Adrien was getting out of the shower, his phone buzzed with a text. 

 

**Foxy:** hello my beautiful banana sponge cake

**Foxy:** meet me at the buttes-chaumont?

**ChatNoir:** Okay

**Foxy:** YOURE CAPITALIZING LETTERS AGAIN!!!!

**Foxy:** MY LONGEST YEAH BOY EVER

**ChatNoir:** Alya pls

  
  


He put on a fresh pair of pants and biked to the park, arriving on the grassy lawn and jogging over to Alya.

 

“I came up with some games on the way here,” she said, unpacking an avocado sandwich. “First one. What do you miss most about Ladybug?”

 

Adrien glared.

 

“What?” she said around a mouthful of sandwich. “You gotta put a  _ name _ to your feelings, come to terms with stuff, whatever whatever. I went to a therapist yesterday, I know what I’m talking about. So. What do you miss the most?”

 

“Her laugh,” he said simply. “Or- no. Her eyes.”

 

“Lame,” Alya said. She took another bite. “I miss her puns.”

 

“ _ I  _ have those!”

 

“Hers were better. Okay, fine, I miss her baking. That was some good shit.”

 

Adrien nodded. He hadn't tasted one of her croissants in weeks, and he missed their familiar buttery flavor.

 

“But, come on, seriously. Her  _ eyes _ ? Chloé has blue eyes, too. And so does Aurore. And Rose. And your dad. And—”

 

“But her eyes were  _ nice  _ blue! Chloé’s are icy blue. Marinette’s are- I mean, they were, uh… they were baby blue.”

 

“I didn't know you were such a color snob,” Alya snorted. “They’re literally both just blue.”

 

“Right, and your eyes are just hazel.”

 

“Aren't they?”

 

“No, they're like— hazel-green! And gold!”

 

“Oh, who cares,” Alya groaned. “Right, next question. What  _ don’t  _ you miss?”

 

“I miss everything,” he said. “Every cell in her body.”

 

“Yeah, true. That one’s a lame question, but the therapist asked it, so I thought it might have  _ some  _ merit. This is the last question: what do you think she’d want you to do now that she's gone?”

 

“Cry?”

 

“Strike one.”

 

“Be depressed?”

 

“Strike two.”

 

“Uhh… I don’t know, make a shrine to her and pray to it every night?”

 

Alya rolled her eyes. “You should hang out with Chloé more often, I hear she has a cult that does just that. I know what she’d want you to do.”

 

“What would she want me to do, Alya?” Adrien asked, putting on an air of somberness.

 

“She’d want you to try and be happy. Y’know, do some gardening or shit. Yoga. Eat kale. All that.”

 

“I don't think she ever ate a single kale leaf in her life.”

 

“Yeah, I know, that was satire. I mean, she just wanted you to be happy, Adrien. That’s all she wanted. She loved you. I bet if she’s watching you, she wants you to stop being sad and try and move on with your life.”

 

“‘Stop being sad-’ that’s the most neurotypical thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”

 

“Oh, whatever, you know what I mean.” Alya patted his thigh. “Good game, Agreste.”

 

“My turn. Why do you think she’s dead?”

 

“Because she died, genius,” Alya said.

 

“No, I mean— considering there’s a great Purpose for everything—"

“—there isn't—”

 

“—and everything happens for a reason—”

 

“—it doesn't—”

 

“—why do you think she died so prematurely?”

 

Alya pondered that.

 

“It’s unfair,” Adrien said simply. “She didn’t deserve it. She brought so much light to our lives. Why would the Higher Power extinguish that light?”

 

“You think there’s a higher power?”

 

“No, I think there's a Higher Power. They’re different.”

 

“Whatever. What do you think this higher power is?”

 

“I bet it’s, like, aliens. Like really, really big aliens that want to study constructed society.”

 

“You think society was constructed?”

 

“If it  _ was _ constructed, I think it was constructed by aliens.”

 

Alya gazed out over the water. “Adrien?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“I really, really miss her.”

 

_ Me too,  _ he thought, but he kept it to himself because “I miss her” didn't cut it. He felt empty without her.

 

They played a few more games, like ‘favorite Ladybug moments’ and ‘best cat pun you can come up with,’ and then Alya decided that was enough nature and socialization for a day and decided to head back home. Adrien sat by the water’s edge for a few minutes more, soaking in the scenery, and then got on his bike and pedaled home.

  
  


—«·»—

  
  


Alya didn’t visit him again until a week later, coming with Ghibli movies in hand and a box of different teabags for hybrid tea experimentation. Two days after that she arrived on his doorstep with a 5000-piece puzzle. Half a week after  _ that,  _ she texted him a riddle she’d watched in a Ted-Ed lesson and asked him what the solution was. 

 

It took a while for her to start showing up every single day.

 

Adrien always looked forward to her visits. She was always the highlight of his day when she came. Whenever he felt just about drowned in his loneliness and grief, Alya’s familiar red curls arrived and their bearer with them. When he began to slip, she caught him every time.

 

About two months after Ladybug’s death, she had brought a basket-weaving kit and asked him to help her assemble it. As the wood was soaking, she commented, “You seem to be doing a lot better.”

 

“As long as I have something to keep my mind occupied,” he agreed.

 

“Do you think we’ll ever be the same without her?”

 

“Honestly? No, I don’t. I think she’s carved a way into my heart that’ll never heal.”

 

“Cheesy,” Alya remarked with disdain. “But I know what you’re saying. It’ll be hard to fill that gap.”

 

Adrien quietly watched as the basket wood got soggier and more malleable. 

 

“What happened to Nino?”

 

Alya frowned. “Didn’t you know? He just finished the first half of his internship, he’s coming back soon. I was sure he posted about it on Facebook…”

 

“Who uses Facebook anymore?”

 

“ _ I  _ do,” Alya protested. “Don’t knock Facebook.”

 

“It’s a hellhole of old parents who want to be Cool and Hip and teenagers sharing out-of-date memes.”

 

“You must be friends with the wrong people, then. My Facebook feed is great. Just today I saw a post about adopting salamanders…”

 

“How many salamanders have you ever wanted to adopt?”

 

“I just adopted six today. Like I said: don’t knock Facebook.” Alya’s phone buzzed. “Oh, it’s just a text…” Her eyes went wide. “From Nino!”

 

Adrien leaned over. “What does it say?”

 

Alya batted his face away. “‘Hey, I’m in Paris rn, wanna hang out?’ Oh my gosh,” she said, turning to Adrien, “wanna hang out with Nino?”

 

“Are you kidding? I love that guy so much.”

 

“Let’s go!” Alya shouted, slamming her hands on the table, and bolting to the door.

 

“But— the baskets—"

 

“Nino takes priority!” Alya shoved on her coat and swung the door open. “C’mon, slowpoke!”

  
  
  


As it turned out, Nino hadn’t heard of Ladybug’s recent demise.

 

“She WHAT?” he demanded, and the mocha he was holding nearly fell out of his hands.

 

“It’s pretty awful,” Alya said cheerily. “Humor is my coping mechanism.”

 

“Distraction and ice cream is mine,” Adrien added. 

 

“He ate, like, eight tubs of ice cream in two days once,” Alya said, elbowing Adrien.

 

“I was  _ sad _ . If I can’t knock Facebook, you can’t knock ice cream.”

 

Alya threw her hands up. “Noted.”

 

Nino caught them up with the goings-on in his life: he was still an intern at the film company, but everything was going really well and he hoped to score a position as the assistant director of an upcoming film.

 

“Radical,” Adrien said. 

 

“Right? It’s in Italian, so that’s kind of an issue. But I’ve been learning a lot of Italian recently.”

 

“Really? How do you say  _ Ladybug is the love of my life _ in Italian?”

 

“She’s dead, Alya.”

 

“Yeah, but how do you say it?”

 

Nino concentrated. “Uh, ‘Ladybug è l'amore della mia vita.’ I think.

 

Alya turned to Adrien. “Ladybug è l'amore della mia vita _ , _ ” she said.

 

“Me too.”

  
  


—«·»—

  
  
  


Adrien had spent six months with Alya trying to recover. Every day it seemed a little more real— both his life and Ladybug’s absence. 

 

Alya had resumed her work again, but she still came over every day and at times had taken to staying at Adrien’s house when he had confessed he felt lonely.

 

Exactly six months and seven days post-Ladybug had been a violent storm. Alya had come over to bake profiteroles and had decided to stay inside due to the intense wind and rain.

 

“Adrien, hand me that coaster, would you? I think they’re ready to come out of the oven.”

 

“Are they the right color?”

 

“Adrien,  _ hand me the coaster _ .”

 

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

 

“ _ Adrien! _ ”

 

Adrien slid the coaster to Alya’s side of the granite peninsula.

 

“ _ Thank  _ you.” Alya lifted the profiteroles and placed them on the coaster. “Do you have jam?”

 

“Of course I have jam. Alya, you’ve been coming here for six months, you should know that.”

 

“Fuck you.”

 

“You know you love me,” he sang.

 

It was at times like these when it was easy to forget that his wife was dead and he woke up depressed every morning, because Alya made it better. She helped remove him from the toxicity of his brain sans-Ladybug. She made him laugh, she made him happy. That was enough for him.

 

Alya scooped the profiteroles off the baking sheet and off the coaster. “Do you want to pipe in the cream?”

 

“Sure thing—”

 

A faint knock sounded at the door.

 

Adrien turned to look as  the door creaked open and he nearly had a heart attack. He couldn’t see the face that hid behind the door until a familiar red-gloved hand started to push it open.

 

“IT’S A MOTHERFUCKING GHOST!” Alya screamed, and threw the coaster at the door.

 

“Hey!” said an indignant voice behind the door.

 

“Show yourself!” Adrien commanded, grabbing a frying pan off the counter and holding it. “I warn you, I’m armed!”

 

The door was kicked ajar and in the doorway stood, of all people,  _ Ladybug _ , pixie-cut hair soaking wet.

 

But even though Adrien felt as though he could literally not be more surprised, an even more shocked expression was shown on Ladybug’s face.

 

“What are you doing in my house,” she whispered.

 

Adrien tried for a crooked smile. “I’m… your husband?”

  
  


—«·»—

  
  


“How are you not dead?” Alya demanded.

 

“Uhh… good question.” Ladybug looked down at her hands. “I think the suit protected me.”

 

“ _ How _ ?”

 

“That literally sounds like the dumbest deus ex machina ever,” Alya scoffed. 

 

“I definitely was dead,” Ladybug began, and then stopped. “Yeah.”

 

“So how are you  _ not dead  _ right now?”

 

“I don’t know, Disney magic. Kwami something or other.” She put her hands on Adrien’s shoulders. “More importantly, why are we not addressing that you're— well, for starters, you’re not transformed…”

 

“No, I am not.”

 

“And you’re—  _ you _ .”

 

“Yes, I am. And you’re  _ you _ .”

 

“Did Alya— I mean, Rena—”

 

“I call her Alya,” Adrien shrugged.

 

“Did she tell you? Who I am, I mean?”

 

“Yeah, she came over like a week after you— I mean, I thought you’d— you know. Died. And she was like, ‘YOU MARRIED HER AND YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW HER NAME?’ And she told me.”

 

“Do you remember me?”

 

“Not gonna lie, it’s kind of hard to forget someone you had a crush on for five years.”

 

Ladybug let out a choked sob. “You  _ what? _ ”

 

Alya planted a large kiss on Ladybug’s cheek. “You have NO idea how much I’ve missed you. God, me and Adrien were  _ messes _ for the first two months. Honestly, we kind of bonded over your loss.”

 

“‘Kind of’?” Adrien protested. “We spent, like, all our time together.”

 

“Honestly, you depended on me so much, I was half afraid you’d pop the question or something.”

 

“So soon after my Lady’s death? Not a chance.”

 

“Shut up, both of you,” Ladybug said. “Adrien, you absolute dick, do you realize I literally fantasized about marrying you and shit all throughout lycée?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What do you have to say for yourself?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Ladybug’s posture slumped slightly, and her Miraculous flashed, leaving her maskless, exposed, and small.

 

“I missed the freckles,” Adrien admitted.

 

“I had freckles even when I was Ladybug,” Marinette said.

 

“But they were obscured.”

 

“You could still see them.”

 

“Mariiiii,” he complained. “I’m complimenting your melanin arrangement. Can’t you take a compliment?”

 

“Adrien, you’re a dork,” Alya said.

 

“Tell me something I don’t know.”

 

Marinette looked between Adrien and Alya. “Did something… happen while I was gone?”

 

“While you were dead,” Alya corrected.

 

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Yeah.”

 

Adrien and Alya exchanged glances. 

 

“She was like my best friend, if that’s what you mean.”

 

“That’s all?”

 

Adrien pondered that. His dependency on Alya had grown past friendship, hadn’t it?

 

“I mean… maybe?”

 

“Adrien, did you cheat on me while I was dead?”

 

“No! Alya was like… my rock.”

 

“Glad I could be your Dwayne Johnson,” Alya said helpfully.

 

“Adrien, I… If you want to be with her, I don’t blame you—”

 

And here was the tricky part, because he definitely  _ did _ want to be with Alya. The question was, did he want to be with Ladybug more?

 

It was a crossroads of two things he dearly wanted.

 

“But I want to be with you, too,” he said quietly. “I want to be with both of you. More than anything.”

 

“Then let’s triple-date,” Alya said. “No need to get so emo.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“I want to be with you,” Alya said simply. “I want to be with Marinette, too. And you want to be with us both. And—”

 

“I want to be with you both,” Ladybug cut in.

 

“Well… let’s try it,” Adrien conceded.

 

“Alya? Adrien?” Marinette said quietly. “I love you.”

 

“I love you too.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> kind of a gift for @larvesta on tumblr ;0


End file.
